


it's been a long, long time

by transtarboy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, bed sharing, set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier, tender gay hearts, this is self indulgent and soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 05:05:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13710453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transtarboy/pseuds/transtarboy
Summary: bucky keeps breaking into steve’s apartment after steve is released from the hospital. this time, steve asks him to stay for a little longer.





	it's been a long, long time

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a little drabble from a tumblr prompt but i hope u like it anyway :)

Steve jerked awake, his hand instinctively reaching for the shield tucked between his bed and the nightstand. His eyes darted around the room, quickly settling on a tall, broad figure by the window. Most of him is obscured, the moonlight filtering in through the window serving only to illuminate long, dark hair, but Steve would know him anywhere. He could pick him out of a line-up of perfect duplicates, just by the beat of his heart.

“Hey,” he said quietly, afraid he’d spook the man away if he spoke too loudly.

Bucky said nothing. Steve tried again.

“Are you okay?”

A short nod, accompanied by an almost imperceptible tick in his heartbeat. A lie. Steve’s heart sank. “Bucky…”

The man sucked in a breath, and turned to climb back out of the window. Shit, Steve thought. He had to act quickly, or Bucky would disappear and god knows how long it would be until he saw him again.

“How long has it been since you last slept?”

Bucky paused, one leg already out of the window. Steve hurried with his pitch, sensing he’d caught his attention. “You could stay here. Just for a while. To rest, I mean. There’s more than enough room,” he tentatively joked, waving his arm at the (frankly ridiculous) luxurious, giant bed Tony insisted on having installed in his apartment after learning Steve slept on a dinky, paper-thin twin mattress. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford a nicer one, he had more money than he’d ever need, it was just… a weird comfort thing. He could almost pretend it was still 1940, when his life infinitely less complicated and Bucky came home every night. But he had to admit this new bed was much more comfortable, and it was nice to settle down in while he was still healing from his more substantial injuries.

Bucky hadn’t said a word yet.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at Steve from the corner of his eye. He spoke for the first time since the helicarrier, his voice rough with Steve assumed was disuse. “Shouldn’t.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t,” Bucky graveled, his voice somehow soft and rough at the same time. “Shouldn’t let me.”

“I trust you,” Steve replied, another piece of his heart breaking away and falling to the pit of his stomach. “I trust you, Bucky.”

“You shouldn’t,” is all the other man said, but he took his leg back out of the window and shut it, locking both sides.

Steve’s heart picked up. The last time they had done this was the night Bucky and the Commandos were rescued from the Hydra base. They squeezed into Steve’s regulation bunk and held each other so tightly that both of them could hardly breathe, but it barely even registered.

He watched as Bucky bent at the waist to untie the laces of his boots, and then kick them off. His dark jacket went next, folded neatly on Steve’s dresser, leaving him in a soft grey henley and sweatpants he’d taken from Steve’s own closet the last time he broke in.

Steve didn’t have to scoot away to let Bucky slip in. There was more than enough space between them, and every inch killed him. He was right there, breathing quietly, and so, so alive. Steve ached to touch him.

He heard Bucky sigh. “Okay.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay?”

His breath caught as Bucky reached a hand out towards him. “Come.”

No need to tell him twice.

He practically threw himself into Bucky’s arms, careful not to hold the other’s body down in any way, but unable to stop himself from breathing in that somehow still familiar, comforting scent of his. Steve settled, his head resting on the pillow right beside Bucky’s, the long strands of hair tickling his nose. Bucky’s arm was around his neck, his flesh and blood hand tentatively rested on Steve’s shoulder.

“We did this. Before,” Bucky said quietly, and it was almost a question. Steve closed his eyes, feeling the way Bucky’s chest steadily rose and fell underneath his fingers.

“Yes,” Steve answered, surprised at how much of the contentment he felt was reflected in his voice. And he truly was content. 70 years was a long, long time to wait to feel someone’s warmth again. “Goodnight, Buck.”

The hand on his shoulder twitched minutely.

“…Goodnight, Steve.”

* * *

When Steve woke up the next morning, feeling more rested than he has since SHIELD had pulled him out of the ice, the bed beside him was made up with military precision.

He would have almost thought it had been a dream, if it weren’t for the grey henley in his laundry basket, and the empty hook in his closet.


End file.
